I had already risen from my seat in order to examine the map, and to
convince myself that the words were actually there. As I turned round,
Bacon must have guessed or gauged the degree of my astonishment; for
he addressed me as follows: "You apparently do not believe in this
kind of discoveries. Yet there is some truth in the first part of
the announcement; nay, more perhaps than it is intended to convey;
for those tin mines are incontestably inexhaustible, and for this
simple reason, that they will never admit of being explored at
all. Tin mines, however, they are. Careful observations with the
great parabolic reflector provided with a hyperbolic 'oculaire' and
a spectrum analysis system for the reflected rays have abundantly
proved that those brilliant stripes radiating from Tycho are nothing
but metallic tin. You will be less surprised to hear this when you
remember that the moon has neither water nor atmosphere. So it is that
metals which on our earth generally present themselves in an oxydal
condition of some kind or other, on the contrary preserve their glossy
surface on the moon just as with us silver, gold, and platina."
I now perfectly remembered that through the invention of spectrum
analysis in the latter half of the nineteenth century it had indeed
become possible to discover metals and several other elements in
the different celestial bodies, and I conceived some faint idea of
the possibility of recognising, with the aid of greatly improved
apparatus, even the chemical character of such small portions of the
lunar surface as for example the Tycho stripes. The only thing quite
inexplicable to me was this, how could there be people left in the
twenty-first century so credulous as to believe in the exploration of
tin mines in the moon by us, the inhabitants of the earth? When I put
this question to Bacon, the following was his reply: "My dear sir,
on this point, as on many others, men have not much altered. At all
times there have been dupes, the victims of those that preyed upon
them and of their own cupidity. The originators of this unlimited
liability company know full well that there is no possibility of
getting at the tin mines in the moon; all they want to explore is the
cheque-books of the public at large. In former centuries we have had
the same speculations; at that time in the shape of tin, copper, and
lead mines that existed nowhere except on imaginary maps, or in the
form of landed estates, which on closer examination of the facts often
dwindled down into pigstyes, or in the cultivation of fertile soil,
which turned out to be mere wildernesses; very often a clever array
and combination of figures was resorted to, and people were often
brought to believe that one and one are four, and that two times two
are ten. So it has been, and always will be. Think of the very old
maxim, Mundus vult decipi. All that is required for such adventurers
is an elastic conscience, a good deal of "brass," and a certain knack
not to squeeze people's credulity too much, but to blind the masses
by an artificial coating of truth. In former times--before science
had to dispose of its enormous resources--had any one proposed to
fetch tin from the moon, the commonest clown would have looked upon
him as an addle-pate; but now-a-days so great is the number of recent
discoveries and inventions, which to the uneducated mind savour almost
of miracles, that many end in believing almost anything, and to my mind
this is not to be wondered at. Start a company for parcel delivery by
electric telegraph, issue a prospectus stuffed with learned twaddle,
and an elaborate quasi-scientific demonstration of your scheme--above
all, hold out hopes of a wonderful profit--and you are sure to find
shareholders enough."
Universal Suffrage, etc.
"Poor children of man!" I thought. "Will you then always remain the
same, always and for ever, always the slaves of your passions, and
thereby the tools of those who take advantage of your weaknesses?" But
my thoughts wandered into a different direction as soon as I noticed
another placard simply containing this (although in monstrous figures
and characters):
Anti 1-2 League.
Again I asked my companion for an explanation. "This is simply to
call a meeting for the purpose of forming a league to oppose the
one-two men." I was just as wise as before; but Bacon continued his
explanation with his wonted courtesy. No mean introduction, however,
was required to make the affair intelligible to me. I first gathered
then from him that the right of universal suffrage had long since
been entrusted to men and women alike. At first the privilege had
been solely restricted to such persons as were of age, but since
then the very consistent remark had been made that this restrictive
measure was very inconsistent indeed. Why had the money qualification
been abolished? because it was ostensibly unfair that a man paying
taxes to the amount of two pounds should have a vote, and another
paying only £1 19s. 11d. should be excluded from the poll. If the
difference of one penny constituted no vital distinction, why not
still further descend until we arrived at zero? Now the clear-headed
and far-seeing people gradually learned to perceive that the question
of being or not being of age was in itself a time-qualification,
and these pioneers of progress began to argue as follows: "Why, you
grant the right of voting, of influencing for good or for evil the
interests of country and town, to doting old men, and you withhold
it from young persons in the vigour of intellect, merely because the
law has deemed proper to call them "infants." You would not scruple
to enlist them as soldiers, and they should have no vote in matters
concerning their own interests. Why should a man at one and twenty be
better than he was at twenty? Was not Pitt England's prime minister
on his coming of age? Is it not the height of folly and absurdity to
attempt to determine by law at what period of life a man will just have
sense enough to be entrusted with the performance of a duty which is
the birth-right of every free-born citizen? Such laws are arbitrary
and obsolete, a logical inconsistency, diametrically opposed to the
grand and fundamental principle of equality before the law--aye, and
a last remnant of those forms of paternal government which already
in the nineteenth century began to be ridiculed and condemned; what
could be opposed to such conclusive arguments? Some efforts were made,
but those that attempted the struggle were cried down as unprincipled
persons, weather-cocks, etc. A kind of compromise was arrived at; the
period of coming of age was "recoiled," but still nothing yet would
satisfy the zealots for the principle of logical consistency. Once
more the date of majority was moved back, until even the babies were
admitted by law to come into their "birth-right." The principle
had been saved! the principle! and that was everything with the
agitators. Difficulties there were involved in the principle no doubt,
for some of the newly enfranchised babies could not walk, and others
could not speak, and none could read or write. Under these doleful
circumstances the mothers claimed the right to go to the poll for those
youthful interesting voters, and this exorbitant demand the league
proposed to counteract. One was one, and not two. The most learned
mathematicians went out of their way to prove that either was wrong,
and neither was right, meaning that both were nonsense; but the mothers
laughed heartily at such ironical demonstrations, "and," added Bacon,
"the female party is by far stronger now than the male party."
Woman's Rights.
"Male and female parties!" exclaimed I, in utter astonishment. "Have
those then become the two contending parties in politics?"
"Naturally enough," replied he. "Nothing else could have happened;
it is the direct and natural consequence of the emancipation of
women, whereby all rights have been granted them that were formerly
exclusively accorded to men."
I could not help expressing my surprise at such a result, and added
that I was afraid that it must have materially affected the relation
between the sexes.
A sarcastic smile seemed for once to ruffle the placid features of
Bacon as he laconically answered, "Perhaps so." But Miss Phantasia,
who suddenly from a listener became a speaker, made the following oral
affidavit: "I will just tell you the truth of the matter. I for one
am heartily tired of the present state of affairs, and so are many
of my sisters. When our mothers and grandmothers first agitated and
ultimately carried these so-called woman's rights, they certainly knew
but half what they were about. Equal rights suppose equal duties,
and equal obligations impose equal burdens. Woman, demanding as a
right that which men had hitherto withheld from her, forfeited thereby
the privileges at one time acceded to her by men. In the old works
of fiction, which to us are the sources whence we draw the morals
of bygone days, the man figures conspicuously as the protector of
woman; any man laying any claim to the title of a gentleman treated
a woman with respect and affability; hers was the place of honour in
society; she was both loved and respected, respected on account of
her belonging to the weaker sex, loved as man's helpmate, not his
competitor or rival. All this has changed now-a-days. We wished to
protect ourselves, and we are less protected than ever. We have not
taken our places by the side of the men, but against them, as they
stand opposite us. Woman's weakness, once her strength, is no longer
regarded by rival man, and now we begin to feel it. That which was
formerly given us freely and willingly has now to be wrenched from our
male opponents. The old feeling of chivalry has given way to the habit
of rudeness. Politeness, though the word is not quite expunged from
men's vocabulary, is seldom extended towards our sex. You must have
noticed how, on going upstairs this morning, the men rudely pushed us
aside so as to secure the best seats for themselves. This is a slight
specimen of what happens and is tolerated in 'modern' society. Opposite
man's violence is to be found woman's cunning, and the ultimate chances
of success are pretty well balanced on both sides; but to whichsoever
victory may fall, it can only be bought at the price of domestic peace
and bliss, and of all those nobler qualities which then only will be
properly developed when both sexes keep within the sphere allotted them
by nature and disposition. Whatever we have gained in direct political
influence we have lost in the indirect influence on the hearts of men,
and it remains to be seen whether the gain has been greater than the
loss. No, Stuart Mill, you who two hundred years ago were the first to
put the dormant idea of female emancipation into the shape of words,
and supported the agitation with all the weight of your name, you may
have been a great philosopher, you may have known every possible thing
about political economy, but you did not understand the human heart;
and with regard to us women, you have played us a very bad trick."
That Miss Phantasia was earnest in her conviction was evinced by the
unusual warmth with which she had spoken. Yet it appeared to me that
she was a little too hard upon Mill. All that he and his followers
undoubtedly intended to carry was that the right of voting should be
extended to unmarried women, and to those that were possessed of some
property. They could not be blamed for the extremes rushed into by
their junior adherents. But there recurred to my mind the dreadful
qualification scale, which had been lowered and lowered again, and
I began to recognise that, here as elsewhere, all arguments have to
give way before the so-called principles and logical consistency.
During our political conversation we had entirely lost sight of
the Orumiah observatory, nor was I slow in observing that all the
surrounding objects were gradually decreasing in size; the barometer
too, which depended from the ceiling of the saloon, had considerably
gone down, whence I concluded that we were ascending rapidly,
no doubt for the purpose of seeking a more propitious current in
the higher atmospheric regions. Our ascent was unfortunately, but
naturally, attended with disappointing circumstances; for all the
places over which we travelled became more and more indistinct to
our vision. It was not, however, until after some considerable time
had elapsed that the surface of our planet became altogether of
a greenish-blue colour. No doubt we were passing over the Indian
sea. Of course the scene in the saloon was anything but lively
under the circumstances. Most of the passengers ventured upon their
slumbers, and I observed that with them, as with myself, respiration
began to quicken, owing to the higher air in which we breathed. The
snoring of the "trunculant figure" was utterly objectionable, not
to say more. Even Miss Phantasia, lively and excitable as she was,
had by this time fallen asleep, thereby depriving me of her animated
dialogue with a pretty French lady with whom she had been discussing
her pet subjects--poetry and the fine arts. Bacon alone seemed absorbed
in the reading of a learned dissertation "concerning the possibility
of intercommunication between the various spheres of the universe by
means of optic-telegraphic signals." As for me, I recapitulated in
undisturbed silence all the wonderful things which I had seen and heard
of during the last two days, and I could not help saying to myself:
if two single centuries can bring about such radical revolutions,
what will the work of ages be?
The New Zealand of the Future.
At last I ventured to interrupt Bacon in the perusal of his learned
work. "Where do you think," I asked, "we are going to?"
To which he answered perfectly dryly: "I suppose we cannot be very
far from New Zealand. We have made a considerable détour through the
upper air in order to take advantage of the atmospheric current which
arises between the tropics, and then extends to the north and south
and east successively, but now we are descending again. See how the
barometer is going up."
Thinking on Bacon's words, I looked once more through one of the
telescopes, and at some considerable distance I viewed two large
islands barely separated by a very narrow strait.
"Now we are among our antipodes," continued Bacon. "New Zealand is
the Great Britain of the Southern Pacific."
"But still she has not anything like a population so wealthy, powerful,
and civilised."
"Still a better one than you would have imagined. Already New Zealand
has several large cities with the same institutions for education
and science and art as are to be found in Europe. She possesses
an important commercial navy, has plenty of ore and coal mines,
a splendid agriculture, innumerable herds of cattle, a flourishing
industry, and an energetic population, chiefly of English descent."
"What has become of the Maoris?"
"They have utterly disappeared, no one really knows where to. According
to some New Zealand naturalists, they have died out; others imagine
that they have migrated somewhere; others again are inclined to
believe that a portion of the native inhabitants are of lineal Maoric
descent. If this were the case, they must have considerably improved as
a race; for the people here are now extremely peaceful. Should you ever
visit Londinia in your travels again, you ought not to omit paying a
visit to the National Museum; there you will find two embalmed Maoris,
a male and a female, the former beautifully tatooed. You will see
them side by side with other embalmed specimens of the aboriginals,
such as New Hollanders, American Redskins, etc., all of whom have
long become extinct."
"Does the same apply to the inhabitants of all countries where
Europeans have settled?"
"No, only to those that are situated beyond the tropics; for the
tropical regions, with the exception of the cooler mountain districts,
are in the long run unsuited to the Caucasian race. The interior of
Africa has still its original negro population; New Guinea is still
inhabited by the Papoos, and many other islands of tropical clime
are still occupied by the descendants of the ancient aboriginals,
although they are rather on the decrease."
"Have those tribes that belong to the so-called inferior races improved
at all in civilization?"
"Not much. With all of them progress is slow, extremely slow. Some
even hold the opinion that their progress is after all more imaginary
than real; that is to say, that it merely consists of their aping
some of the European manners and customs, and of these rarely the
best. Still I believe I have sufficient ground to admit that they too
are progressing, only that their progress differs essentially in its
character from that of the Caucasian races."
Meanwhile we had reached so far the northern island of New Zealand
that I was able to see through the telescope, not only the mountain
tops but even the most densely populated districts.
Our fellow-passengers woke up one after the other, and Miss Phantasia
asked me would I stay at the same hotel with them at Melbourne? "We
go to the Old-England," continued she; "we have already ordered
our dinner."
I answered of course that I could never too late part with such
excellent company.
Bacon called the steward, and gave orders for us to be put down
near Cape Maria van Diemen, from which a telegram should be sent
to Melbourne.
Shortly afterwards we floated over New Zealand, and I was obliged to
confess that Bacon had not said too much of that country. Few districts
in this world have been so largely favoured by nature. The large bays
and gulfs were crowded with innumerable vessels apparently belonging
to all nations. Of cities, towns, and villages, there was no end,
and everything indicated the highest degree of prosperity.
Among the most conspicuous flags I noticed one very liberally
represented; it had twelve suns on a blue field. Not knowing what
they meant, I once more inquired of my guide: what country did they
represent?
"That is the standard of the twelve united states of New Holland,
which together form a federate republic," answered Bacon.
"A republic!" was my reply; "I always thought that New Holland belonged
to the British crown."
"Such was the case," replied Bacon, "at one time; but the child
has outgrown the mother. For ever so long the New Hollanders manage
their own affairs. They are, as you are doubtless aware, of European
descent. That is the great difference between New Holland and the
East Indian islands, which at one time were yours. We have therefore
parted on the very best of terms, and the only bond that still joins
us together is that of reciprocal commercial interests. The vast
Southland has become a powerful government; and if ever--improbable
as it is--civilization should migrate from Old Europe, it still would
know where to find a centre. You will soon become aware of this on
our landing."
We were rapidly moving. New Zealand disappeared from our horizon,
and in opposite direction other districts seemed to emerge from the
sea. That was New Holland, the great Southland, the goal of our voyage.
Every passenger began to look after his luggage. The long extensive
coastline lay before us. We were slowly and obliquely descending. The
objects on the surface of the earth grew in size and distinctness. It
was evident that we were approaching a large city. Melbourne it was. A
few moments afterwards we heard a bustle and a kind of confused noise,
only to be compared with the unfurling of sails and the untying of
ropes. A violent shock followed, and--I woke up in my arm-chair.